


Do the Dead Frighten You?

by CookiesAreSoHot



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, DFAB reader, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Gen, Gender-neutral Reader, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Porn, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, Sexual Tension, Smut, Sort of plot, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-08-22 19:51:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8298304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CookiesAreSoHot/pseuds/CookiesAreSoHot
Summary: You aren’t entirely sure how this came to be.
You, being the lover, but not really lover, of one of Talon’s most prized assets.
In which Reaper is a drama queen and has taken a special interest in you and you both come to mean more to each other then you were originally supposed to. Tags and summary subject to change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written as gender neutral but the smut chapters has reader as DFAB. This started as porn without plot but I want to try and add plot/build up, so

You aren’t entirely sure how this came to be.

You, being the lover, but not really _lover,_ of one of Talon’s most prized assets.

You would use the term ‘friends with benefits’, but you aren’t even sure if you would classify yourself as the friend of _Reaper_ , otherwise known (or _formerly_ known as, you aren’t quite sure of the distinction between the two for him if you had to be honest) as Gabriel Reyes, former Commander of Blackwatch.

Who he was wasn’t exactly public knowledge, not even within Talon, the fact that even you knew was a benefit (or side effect) of the nature of the relationship you had with him.

Maybe we should start at the beginning.

How you came to Talon was your business, Talon did not ask questions, and it wasn’t exactly like you and your co-workers were gathering around the water cooler like some makeshift watering hole and trading stories of who played golf and whose kids were selling girl scout cookies.

You did your job and you did it well enough that Reaper took interest in you.

Your blood ran cold when you got the orders to join Reaper on this mission, something about bombings of make shift omnic monasteries that were popping up around south east Asia, and your heart nearly stopped altogether when some grunt, a lower level recruit, let it slip that Reaper had _requested you_ for this mission.

The grunt ran like a mutt with his tail between his legs when he caught your cold glare, but even that sense of power and satisfaction you got from that did nothing to quell the growing uneasiness in your chest.

Sure, you had met Reaper a couple of times before this, but all those times you could count on one hand and the exchanges had been little less than a nod of acknowledgement.

Yet even then, you could not deny the way you had _felt_ when you had met him.

The only description you could properly give was _watched_ because even though it was impossible to tell with the heavy white mask that covered his face, there was no doubt in your mind he was watching you.

This had been no different, from the moment you met him at the hanger, waiting for your lift and gave him a wave of acknowledgment, you could swear he was watching you, no, _judging_ you.

Reaper barely spoke to you, just barked orders at you over the comm as you terrorised locals, believers and militia alike.

At first you thought he was judging your performance, how you handled on the battlefield, especially with someone else to worry about (you usually worked alone, or at best, commanding a group of lesser ranked soldiers, never with another high ranking mercenary), but then it came even when you made your way to the safe house (less house, more bunker) for the night, the hollow blackness of his mask’s eyes staring into your very soul, as if picking you apart, bit by bit, from the inside out.

You offer to take first shift to stand guard, too afraid to let yourself sleep in the presence of this man. Reaper merely stared at you before he reached out, the talons of his gloved hand barely grazing over your chest armour, customised and unique but still dark in colour, your own identity in the faceless masses that were Talon.

The act alone made freeze, unsure as to what he was doing.

“Tell me something…” Reaper murmured, the filter of his mask making his voice deeper then it probably was as his talons stopped, right over your heart. “Do the dead frighten you?”

You refused to meet his gaze, frozen on the spot and extremely unsure what to do. Reaper had _killed_ lesser soldiers that somehow offended him before, that was no secret, between his temper and his… condition (a secret that wasn’t a secret within Talon), it was amazing he did not take more lives within the ranks. Why ask this question? Was he testing you? What for?

Reaper gave a low chuckle. _“Cariño_ , you have not answered me.”

You swallowed hard at the nickname, trying not to start hyperventilating. You weren’t fluent, but you knew enough to know what he had called you. What scared you was the implications of the sudden nickname. “I’m sorry, what did you – “

Suddenly his taloned glove came to your chin, and with a hauntingly gentle touch, tilted your face to meet his gaze and you’re suddenly aware how close he is to you. The mask stared back at you and your stomach flipped as the feeling of being consumed (both metaphorically and literally, given what Reaper DID to those he killed) felt all too real.

“Do the dead frighten you?” Reaper asked again, a tense growl evident through the filter.

You swallowed hard but gave your answer. “No.”

You aren’t sure whether it’s your answer or just an answer you think he wants, but the silence he gave at your answer is almost killing you.

He stared at you, unwavering and unreadable, and you almost readily accept that he might kill you for this, for giving him ‘the wrong answer’, writing your death off as a ‘causality’ that happened during the mission, but just as you’re wondering who will water the poor plant in your quarters when you’re written up as KIA, he laughs, loudly and steps away, turning his back to you.

“Get some rest, _Cariño_. I’ll call you up when it’s your turn to stand watch.”

You decided two things that night.

Reaper is one dramatic motherfucker, and you are positive his fascination with you won’t stop here.


	2. Chapter 2

The second day Reaper acted as if nothing had happened, you had been called up for your shift keeping watch (unsure it was even necessary, since at the time, you weren’t even sure Reaper _could_ physically sleep) at a reasonable time, not that it mattered, since you refused to let yourself sleep, too terrified of him, of the way he looked at you and his questions and any implications either might hold.

“Your shots are off today, _Cariño_.” You heard him say over the comm in the middle of your monastery and village raid of the day, the smug grin so evident in his tone. “Don’t tell me you didn’t sleep well?”

You bite into your cheek to keep from snapping back, anger joining to meet the dread you felt around this man, this _thing_. _Fuck you._ You wanted to say. _You’re the damn reason I couldn’t fucking sleep last night._

You take your frustrations, fuelled half by sleep deprivation and the other by _him_ and whatever he made you feel, into angrily smashing the face plate off a militia soldier who ventured to close to you with the butt of your gun.

Reaper found you again when you had cleared your area, wiping blood off your beloved rifle and he chuckled darkly, even in the presence of you glare that sent Talon grunt number #177 (you never bothered learning the names of those that would so obviously die) running back at HQ.

“Can we get a move on already?” You snapped angrily, already slinging your rifle over your shoulder.

Reaper sniggered again but did not push you any further for the rest of the mission.

He barked orders at you, he kept his eyes on you whenever you could, but he kept any further comments to himself until the final day (three days under his gaze, three days of his breathe practically down your neck), when the last of the make shift monasteries, homages to the main base the omnic monks had to practise their teaching in the mountains of Nepal, were left to burn, most of the omnics left alive but deactivated or severally injured in comparison to their human companions, left bleeding to death, to fuel distrust and rumours.

You were exhausted, and ready for a hot meal and shower and a proper bed and that’s when you both caught each other off guard.

“Reaper?” You called out over the comm. He had been radio silent for 10 minutes now, and while it was not unusual for him to go quiet, he usually checked back when you asked for him.

For a brief moment, you entertained the notion he may’ve been bested… until you remembered he couldn’t.

At least you wouldn’t have to explain that to your higher ups. Reaper going off on his own was not unusual after all, a part of you wondered just how much he even listened to whoever was above your payroll in Talon.

“Reap – “ Your call was cut off as you rounded the corner of a small stone hut, and you came face to face with the visage of him standing before a dying man, still choking blood and clutching the gaping shotgun wound to his abdomen, his cheap armour having done nothing to protect him against the blast of Reaper’s shotguns.

Reaper instantly met your gaze and suddenly you were frozen and it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of you, the hollow blackness of the masks eyes staring at you and you felt that sensation again, of being pulled apart piece by piece.  

He broke your gaze and suddenly it was as if time started again, Reaper pressed his armoured boot into the still injured man’s chest, who gave a whimpered cry at the applied pressure. Reaper leaned in closer, his breathing growing heavier through the filter of his mask and what you saw next…

You watched with a somewhat morbid fascination as he, as you could only describe it, sucked the life out of this dying man, yet all he did was stand there, his foot digging hard into the man’s chest and growling in satisfaction as the man grew paler, gasping for air. When the man finally slumped fully, his skin pale and lifeless, like he had been dead hours as opposed to mere seconds, Reaper growled and stepped towards you.

Everything in your mind screamed _run_ but your fight and flight response refused to kick in, so you stayed perfectly still, even as the white as bone mask was mere inches from your face. The air around him was incredibly warm, like a fire that you feared would consume you if you let it.

Had you disturbed him in a moment he’d rather you not have seen, accidentally walked in on him ‘feeding’ as it was?

You had witnessed what few others had after all, well, living others at least.

Reaper’s body language oozed the power and authority he had, both figuratively and literally, over you, yet all he did was reach up, the taloned glove tilted your chin, the warmth of _him_ transferring with even that smallest of actions, to look up at the hollow blackness of his masks eyes with the same haunting tenderness as it had last night.

“I won’t hurt you, _Cariño._ ” His words were also tender, even with the edge his voice filter gave, but then he gave a chuckle, throaty and dry. “Unless you _want_ me to of course.”

You swallowed hard at his words. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You challenged, trying to find yourself and stand your ground, scared you would otherwise be swallowed and consumed by him.

Reaper’s taloned glove, still at your chin, moved up to stroke your cheek, just barely, cold metal a stark contrast to him, to the warmth that practically radiated from him. “I won’t take anything from you unless you let me, unless you _want_ me to.”

“And what do you _want_?” You hissed back.

A pause, before he answered. “Even the dead have wants, _Cariño.”_

_“You aren’t dead.”_ You growled, placing the challenge on the table.

Reaper went quiet before he stepped aside from you, giving off a murky but pleased chuckle. “Call for evac, our work is done.”

Against all odds you wanted to reach back and pull him close as his deceptive warmth left you, but you bit your tongue and radioed for Talon central. He would keep his gaze on you for the rest of the ride back to HQ, despite your best efforts to ignore him.

When your chopper landed and before you had a chance to find comfort in a hot meal and shower, Reaper’s imposing taloned glove met your shoulder and he dragged you close to him so that his bone white mask would graze your ear, only just. The heat still seeped from him and you found yourself unconsciously leaning into it, into him.

“You did good, _Cariño.”_ The words were barely a whisper, only for your ears, no one else’s. “I’ll see you for our next mission.”

And then he was gone, like a ghost, and you were left, hollow and shaken and longing for warmth again.

_…wait a second, NEXT mission?_

You gave a tired chuckle and ran a hand over your face. “Of course there’s a _next mission_.” You whispered to yourself.

Of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may end up being longer then I originally planned and I'll be honest I don't know how to feel about that. There's at least one smut chapter but that's way in the future but now I may do another one as well but I'm very iffy about my smut so... I don't know, we'll see what happens.


	3. Chapter 3

It would be several missions and weeks of Reaper’s presence and constant requisition of you as his second (or third, if Widowmaker or Sombra tagged along), for the thought to even cross your mind that he might be flirting with you.

Because normal people did not tend to flirt the way Reaper did (not in your opinion anyway).  

Reaper’s method of flirting was… odd at best, terrifying at worst.

His invasion of your personal space, the feeling of the bone white mask watching you whenever he was so much in the same room of you, the occasional grazing touch of his taloned hands against you. When you were on the field, he liked being close to you, or at least knowing where you were.

Then the _gifts_ started.

You’d open your personal locker to find a new set of body armour, done in your own personal colours, or maybe a pack of specialised ammo. This wouldn’t be unusual except that whoever oversaw Talon’s supplies was a _cheap-ass_ and you had had to fork out your own hard earned money for supplies beyond standard ammunition and rations, so the sudden extra or specialised supplies was unexpected and suspicious.

At first, you had tried not to think too much about who dared invade your personal space and privacy (if you could call your locker space that) as the gifts had only been few and practical at the time. Maybe whoever was running Talon Requisition had finally stopped being a cheap-ass, or you had earned some brownie points for missions well done (you tried not to think if Reaper was the cause, you were still getting used to having somehow caught his attention), but then one day after a long mission, you came back to your personal locker to find a white unmarked paper bag, which held a neatly folded black leather jacket.

At the time, you had stared at the jacket in your hands, unsure of how to feel. You entertained the thought it was for a future mission, but the leather was too nice, the stitching too high quality. No, this was not a ‘well done’ present from a terrorist organisation, this was something _far_ more personal…

Then you _felt_ him behind you.

Reaper was radiating warmth, meaning he must have just ‘fed’ as it were, so you didn’t even need to turn around when you felt that sudden heat behind you. “It suits you, _Cariño,_ don’t you think?” His gravelly voice asked in a teasing fashion.

You closed your eyes, taking a sharp intake of air, resisting all urge to lean back into the warmth, which was almost intoxicating in an odd fashion, or to turn around and see the bone white mask you had grown almost _used_ to. “What is it for?” You asked, your voice measured and careful.

A pause, before he responded, his tone almost confused. “You said you needed a new one.”

“On the _mission_.” You responded, your tone decided harsher, fingers digging into the leather of the jacket. “In fucking _Alaska_. I was cold.”

“I know. You told me.”

You tried not to think about how you must’ve looked on the last op with him, when you had hissed about the cold and your shitty Talon issued jacket to no one in particular, your teeth chattering. He had teased about giving you his jacket and you had just redirected his attention back to the assassination of the politician you had been dragged onto with him.

“Are we going back?”

“Where?”

“To Alaska.” You snapped back, turning to meet his gaze, or as much as you could trough the black holes of the mask, your hands still grasping the jacket.

Reaper tilted his head slightly. “The mission was a success.”

“So why – “

You were cut off when one of his taloned hand came up to graze yours, his gaze breaking yours to stare at the jacket in your grasp. “Do you not like it? I thought the style suited you.” You choked back a noise of surprised because he sounded almost _hurt_ at that notion.

You pulled your hands away, holding up the jacket. “What is it for?”

“What?”

“What. Is. It. _For_?” You repeated, stressing each word careful, frustration rising. You were tired, he was making you dizzy with the heat he was radiating that you wanted nothing more than to curl against despite _him_ , and he was… he was…

He stared at you for a moment before looking away, avoiding your eyes. “Just _wear_ it you ungrateful little…” He growled out, and there’s a surge of power rising in your chest at the fact he might be _embarrassed_ that he had been called out for his behaviour.

“Ungrateful little _what!?”_ You challenged with a hiss.

Reaper’s gaze snaped back to meet yours but says nothing, and there was a pregnant pause between the two of you, the only sound the clenching of the leather in your hands and his own gloves fisting.

Then it hit you.

“ _You_.”

Even with the mask, you can practically _feel_ his expression. “What about _me?”_

“You’re the one who’s been leaving everything in my locker!”

He tilted his head, confusion evident when he speaks. “I thought that was obvious.”

“How the _fuck_ was it obvious!?” You hissed out angrily.

“Requisition officer’s stingy.”

In retrospect, he had a point. Requisition officer _was_ stingy, and thinking back at it, he always seemed to know when you had received a ‘gift’, commenting that your new body armour had looked nice on you, or that the armour piercing rounds had suited your deadly tactics. You had brushed it off as Reaper being Reaper and enjoying the getting a rise out of you, you hadn’t realised he was, in a way, confirming that you had enjoyed his ‘offerings’.

“So that automatically makes it you!?”

He stared at you, before replying in an almost _threatening_ tone. “Who else would it be?”

 “Oh, because you’re the only one paying _special_ attention to me.” You snapped, suddenly embarrassed he had just, even indirectly, implied there weren’t others.

Reaper looked taken back by that for a moment, the air around him grows slightly cooler and his form began to falter, dark wisps coming off his arms. “Is there?” He snarled out, anger, no _jealousy_ dripping from his voice.

You freeze, that power in your chest suddenly dissipating and replaced with… something that _trembled_ in your chest. “Is…” Your voice faltered, your mouth suddenly dry. “Is there what?”

He snarled again. _“Someone else.”_

You choked on the breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding. “Who else _would_ there be?” You try to sneer, trying to regain some of that power because you will _not_ let this man overtake you again.

Reaper’s body language immediately changed at that, his aggressive stance relaxing as he tilted his head at you before his form stabilised once again and he looked to the ground, almost sullen or embarrassed. The air refused to grow warm again however with his _heat_ and you find yourself clinging to the jacket, trying to muster your courage again.

“Why?”

He doesn’t answer you, so you try again.

“Why are you _doing_ this? Why are you – ” Reaper steps up towards you and instinctively you step back, suddenly all too aware your back is against the cold metal of your locker and he has your cornered against him.

He leans close, close enough that his mask is mere inches away from your face. You lick your lips to try to appease your suddenly dry mouth. 

Reaper stared down at you, he’s so menacingly taller in those stupid weighted boots, as if wondering what to do with you, or what to say and you’re caught in your own stalemate, unsure of what answer you wanted from him.

It wasn’t fair.

You felt like a plaything, something he could tease and spoil for his own amusement and you refuse to be that. You want to reach up, to grab his mask and tear it off and make him look at you without hiding behind it, to somehow make this strange playing field even.

Suddenly he pulls away and you almost cry out at the departure of his warmth and present.

“If you don’t like the jacket, don’t wear it, _Cariño_.” He yells over his shoulder, not even bothering to look back at you as he walks out of the locker room.

You’re too dizzy with emotion and uncertainty to challenge him, left standing against your locker still grasping the gifted jacket in shaky hands.

You take a moment to find the air he had seemingly stolen from your lungs before you angrily threw the jacket back into your locker.

“Go to _fuckin’_ hell, Reaper.” You snarled to the empty locker room as you storm out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, sorry for taking a while with Ch 3. It's busy period and I've been very sick. Hopefully Ch 4 won't take as long. Sombra makes an appearance in the next one and hopefully we'll finally get some smut down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was at least 2500 words but I cut it for my sake, so, reaper for next chapter

You ignored Reaper for the next few days, who strangely did not seek you out himself like he usually did in between missions, nor did he request your assistance in any matters.

Somehow his sudden inattention caused you to feel hollow, almost empty inside, and you channelled in the form of rage, towards whoever was foolish enough to cross your path, enemy or ‘ally’ (if you could call your fellow operatives that at least).

On the fourth day, you had woken in a cold sweat, at some ungodly time of the morning craving warmth. _His_ warmth.

You stared up at the ceiling of your quarters, trying to centre your breathing and still clutching the slightly damp sheets underneath you, your blanket having been apparently kicked off in some fit.

Damnit, it had been four days. Unless you were out on missions, he never let you out of his sight for more than 24 hours. Even if he never spoke to you beyond a teasing remark or a question that made you question your choice in work, it seemed to reassure him simply to know you were _there_. Yet here you are, four days later and you haven’t even crossed his path in the hallways or rooms of the Talon base. Had he left? Been reassigned somewhere else? Reaper rarely took jobs that were no more than a few days long, and you had checked on his status yourself (for your own security, you told yourself), so you knew he wasn’t on assignment for anything.

You looked at the alarm clock by your bed, red letters mocked you with the sight of ‘04:16 AM’. You gave a long sigh, counting to ten slowly under your breath before you pulled yourself up. Your blood was running hot, and you couldn’t see yourself going back to sleep anytime soon.

A quick wash and change, and you were in the mess hall, nursing a steaming mug of your favourite while you went through the news feed on your data pad. It wasn’t deserted in the Mess Hall, the kind of ‘work’ you guys did after all required being up all hours of the day or night, jet setting off to various points of the world, but there was only a small handful of other mercenaries or agents, too riled up to sleep like you, or coming back from a mission somewhere.

You were half reading some story about a wanted mercenary by the name of Jesse McCree being involved in a recent hypertrain raid, when suddenly your datapad’s screen turned purple, code flashing before your eyes until it formed the shape of a familiar sugar skull.

You gave a quiet growl and slammed your mug down. “Sombra!” You cried out, knowing immediately who was responsible.

No one even looked over at your outburst, but there was a delighted laugh right beside you before the woman in question phased into the empty seat in front of you, dropping her cloaking system. “So tense, _cariño_ ,” Sombra remarked, a Cheshire cat grin on her features. “Have you considered switching to decaf?”

You immediately tensed at the nickname. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why? Because Reaper’s the only one who gets to?” She immediately responds, her grin never leaving her features.

You froze, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You tried with your best poker face, which apparently wasn’t that great because all Sombra did was stare at you with a flat expression.

“Really, _gatita_? We’re gonna play that game?” When your expression doesn’t change, she gives an overdramatic eyeroll and leaned over, tapping the screen of your datapad with a tell-tale ‘boop’. It sparked back to life, showing security footage, dated 4 days ago, of you and Reaper in the locker room... you feel your blood run cold.

“Don’t think for a second this was some sort of _secret_ by the way,” She assured you when you don’t respond for a moment. “I mean, you two weren’t exactly _quiet_ about the whole exchange.”

“If it’s already the news all over the base, why are you telling me this?” You snapped at her with a cold glare. “He’s just trying to get a rise out of me, that’s all.”

Sombra gave an uncaring shrug and a sigh. “You two should really not bother hiding anything, not exactly like Talon’s got rules against sleeping with your co-workers _, gatita_.”

You froze. “What … are you on about?” You asked, speaking very slowly.

The hacker blinked at you several times, freezing in place. “Wait… you two aren’t… you _still_ don’t know!?”

“Know what!?” You snapped, blood beginning to boil again.

She choked out a laugh. “Oh my… this is too… oh so he never actually _asked_ or _told_ you!” She looked positively delighted at whatever she had realised (and you didn’t). “Oh, I can’t _believe_ this, that _pendejo!_ No wonder he’s so sulky still!”

**_“Sombra!”_ **

Sombra wiped a non-existent tear of laughter away from her eye and gave another pleased sigh of amusement. “ _Lastimoso,_ honestly…” She gave you another smirk, eyes practically twinkling. “He wants to _fuck_ you, _gatita.”_

A beat.

Then two.

“What?” You finally managed to squeak out after you found your voice again.

“ _Aye_ , c’mon, you’ve been in this field of work for a while, yes?” She asked like it’s not a big deal with a playful poke in your ribs, like she hasn’t just told you that one of the most threatening men in Talon’s arsenal wanted to bang you. “You understand how it is. We’re only human, and we all have needs.”

Your mind struggles to put pieces together, her words triggering a memory and suddenly you’re thinking back to that first job together.

_Even the dead have needs, Cariño._

“And this job isn’t exactly something you can talk about on a Tinder when you’re looking for a hook up,” Sombra continued, ignoring your silence. “Speaking of, I’m actually very surprised you didn’t pick up on it before.” She grinned wildly. “What? You have a ‘no sex during work’ policy, _gatita_?

“No,” You quickly replied, finding your voice again. “I’ve… dallied with other mercenaries in the past.”

Sombra gave you a look of confusion. “Qué? And you didn’t pick up on Reaper trying to get something going?”

You felt your cheeks grow hot. “It’s not like he just came up to me and asked me ‘hey, do you want to fuck’!”

The hacker gave a long sigh. “That’s true, if he wasn’t trying to be such a gentleman it would’ve been so much easier for the both of you.”

You scoff. _Gentleman!?_ Is that what he thought he was being!?

Well, looking back at it, you supposed you should just be grateful he didn’t use any cheesy pickup lines on you at least.

_Cariño_ might have been the only give away, but he only used the expression when you were alone, or in weighted whispered that would not carry beyond the two of you and spread gossip among the rest of Talons ranks. At first you had assumed that he was doing it to taunt, or even tease you. He was as it turned out, just not in a manner you could’ve imagined at the time.

If it had been anyone else, whose first impression wasn’t cornering you in an isolated bunker in the middle of God knows where, asking you strange, almost out of the blue questions, whose general demeanour was to take a seeming delight by the way you challenged him, even with fear evident, you could’ve _maybe_ picked up on it quicker.

Maybe Tom from Human Resources (what a terrorist agency like Talon was doing with a _human resources_ department was beyond you, but you suspected it had something to do with several dead men and the inappropriate conduct seminar you had to take once a year).

That’s a lie actually, because Tom from Human Resources didn’t make you _feel_ the way Reaper did.

You hated to admit it, but there was attraction there, towards a man you were positive would kill you if you said the wrong thing to him.

You wouldn’t liken it to an abusive boyfriend, nor unwanted sexual advances (Reaper _never_ touched you in an unbecoming fashion, a stray hand lingering a second too long on your shoulder, the presence of his eyes staring at you, _always_ staring, but he would never touch you), the term _flirting with death_ seeming all too relevant.

The only thing you could compare it too was that feeling when you watched a scary movie, the rush of adrenaline and satisfaction that washed over you in the presence of _wanted_ fear.

You had never seen the man under the mask, barely seen him with more than his signature trench coat off, but the attraction to him was _there_. He was tall, even without the deceptively weighted boots, and he carried strength, authority, but never imposed such on you. If anything, he seemed eager and delighted when you challenged this authority, always giving you heavy chuckles that made you shiver to the core.

“So, are you going to do it?” Sombra asked, breaking you out of your train of thought, leaning back in her chair.

You looked at her, eyes narrowed. “… do what?”

“Fuck him.”

You felt your cheeks flush in embarrassment but said nothing, sending her a seething glare instead.

Sombra rolled her eyes again in an overly exasperated manner. “Oh please, you aren’t fooling anyone, unless you count fooling me into thinking you two were sleeping together. There’s chemistry there, no?”  

You looked down, into your coffee mug, as if held all the answers to your problems.

The hacker gave a loud sigh. “Listen, I think you should both just get it outta your system and get it on, he’s becoming impossible to deal with, and at this rate, you will too.”

There was a loud beeping noise that caused you to look up, seeing her tap something into your data-pad. You frowned at her. “Sombra, what are you – “

“He’ll be by your quarters in 15 minutes.”

You felt your heart stop. “What!?”

“Yup, just sent him a message, pretending to be you, saying you wanted to talk.” Sombra remarked, grinning at you wickedly before she tapped at your data-pad screen, making it go back to your news feed. “Better hurry, _gatita_. You know he hates being kept waiting.”

Sombra gave you a quick air kiss before her cloaking is activated again and she’s gone. You swore under your breath, grabbing at your data-pad and making a run for it back to your room, ignoring the laughter that echoes behind you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tired laughing* so, um, definite at least implied smut in the next chapter, if not outright smut, it's nearly half way done, hopefully we'll get it out later this week


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SMUT CHAPTER AHOY. We've finally started the 'friends with benefits' portion of our lovely story. I've got more chapters in me, but the rating is being pushed up.

You had no idea why you were even running, why you were so anxious or nervous or _enthusiastic_ all at the same time.

You don’t even question it when you’re about to punch in the keycode for your room and suddenly feel that familiar almost _oozing_ warmth from behind you, trying your best not just to melt backwards into him. “It wasn’t me that sent the message.” You quickly explain. “It was Sombra, but I still wanna talk.”

Reaper gives a quiet huff but says nothing else, his heavy footsteps following you into your room when you finally get the door open. When you hear the door close behind him, you turn around, biting your lip hard. “Why the _fuck_ didn’t you just ask me?”

He visibly freezes at that, and there’s something oh so satisfying about putting a man as imposing as Reaper on the spot. “What are you – “

“Why didn’t you just ASK me to sleep with you?” You’re trying to ignore the flush on your cheeks as you talk. You’ve done this before, you’ve slept with people, with other mercenaries, before, so why did you feel like a virgin school girl bringing this up?

“I _was_ asking.” He growls out, staring at you hard.

“Funny way of asking.” You barked.

Reaper’s body tenses noticeably and you wonder if he’s uncomfortable. “My _mama_ didn’t raise a _mujeriego_ – ”

“No, just a drama queen apparently.”

Reaper growled, moving to turn away. “If you’re just going to make fun of me – “

“Kiss me.”

The words leave your mouth before you even know what you’ve said.

His gaze jolts back to meet yours, clearly a bit taken back by your request. “What?”

“I'm not gonna be the _booty call_ of a man who refuses to at least kiss me.” You insist, the heat of your cheeks intensifying and you only hope he can’t see. 

“Didn't think you were such a romantic.” He snarled out, a hint of amusement in his tone, but his body language relaxes and it’s more than clear he’s pleased. “You want roses with that too?”

“Says the guy who left fucking presents in my locker to woo me.”

You're suddenly against the wall at that remark, his hands on pinning yours at either side of your head, the talons of his gloves digging slightly into the skin of your wrists. Your head bounced at impact with a soft thump, the wind feeling like it was knocked out of you causing you to gasp in surprise. Even after all these weeks seeing him in the field, you’re still amazed how quickly he moved for someone of his size.

“Don't push me, Cariño.” Reaper growls out, the bone white mask inches away from your face again, an all too familiar feeling, the heat of his body finally against yours and you welcome it more eagerly then you wish you would.

“Why?” You sneer, unable to hold back the grin. “You're the one who wants to _fuck_ me so bad.”

“Says the one moping like a lovesick puppy when I ignore you for a few days.” He immediately jabs back, one hand unclasping one of your hands to glide down your body, making you shiver.

You snarl when his hand rests at your hip, giving it a tight squeeze. “ _Fuck you_.”

“That's what I'm trying to do.” Reaper chuckles out breathlessly.

Before you can jab back, his other hand is reaching up to adjust his mask, shifting the lower half slightly to reveal his lower jaw. Dark skin, a colour you could only liken to an ashy or paling brown, like he wasn’t healthy or the blood had been slowly drained from him, his lips are slightly cracked, but still full. His facial hair is thicker then you expected, while still being neatly trimmed, not extending beyond the shape of his mouth or chin, dark in colour while dusted with salt and pepper suggesting age. 

His mouth is on yours before you can respond, the kiss is sharp and dominate and threatening to consume you all too quickly along with the heat he is radiating, the facial hair strangely soft against your skin. You kiss him back with equal parts passion and power, struggling to meet the challenge it feels like he’s setting down. You _won’t_ back down, not without a fight at least.

You find your free hand reaching up to try and cup his cheek, only to be met with the cool steel of mask, and at that, his mouth breaks from yours. “Don’t even _think_ about trying to remove it.” He warns with a growl. “I wanted to fuck you without you ever seeing my face but you’re such an impractical romantic, so I’ll indulge you.”

You briefly considered biting back with some scathing remark about his appearance behind that mask, but you decide that is just a cut to low below the belt, especially for an intimate activity (despite how you ended up here). Your thoughts are interrupted as he suddenly thrusts up against you, even with clothes between the two of you, the friction is all too delicious.

Reaper’s forehead pressed hard against yours and it’s awkward and slightly painful because of the way his mask is askew. “We’ll talk about rules and stuff later, _sí_?” He assured you, and it only then seems to occur to you that he’s serious about this, about having some sort of agreement with him about this. “But right now,” His mouth finds yours again, the kisses short, greedy. “ _Realmente necesito desnudarte…”_

Your Spanish isn’t good enough for you to know what he’s saying exactly, but your brain manages to catch the word for ‘undress’ somewhere in there and you feel yourself flush.

“All talk and no action makes me think you’re nervous, Reaper.” You jab at him before hissing in delight as his mouth finds your jugular. His facial hair tickling against your skin as he peppers your lifeline with kisses before sucking hard on it, making you writhe again him, as if an all too easy reminder how quickly he could end it all.

“ _Cállate_.” He hisses against your skin, thrusting up against you again and you’re left whimpering at that delightful friction again. “Or else I’ll find better uses for that smart mouth of yours.”

You gave a breathless chuckle, even as his mouth continues its work on your neck, teeth pricking at the skin. Your only thought is that he’s _definitely_ going to leave a mark (or multiple at this rate) and you can’t help but wonder why that leaves a glow of pride bursting within you.

Your thoughts are interrupted though when he slides two hands under your ass, cupping you hard against him and before you know, he’s practically thrown you against the bed, the sheets still in disarray from this morning. Reaper eyes you for a moment, and even still clothed as you are, you can’t help but feel exposed at the way he’s looking at you, even if you still can’t see his eyes.

He’s on top of you before you can respond , straddling you and almost caging you with his frame. He steals brief kisses, scorching and greedy in between pulling your clothes off, but there’s nothing romantic about the way he almost rips off your shirt and bra, tossing them into some forgotten corner of your room.

Reaper palms your chest briefly, a clawed thumb swiping over a bare nipple causes you to hiss and swear under your breath at the sensation of cool metal, before his hands slide down your half naked form, resting at your pants and swiftly undoing the buckles. He rolls them down over your hips with your panties, and when they are over your ankles, they too are thrown away in disregard. 

A taloned gauntlet ghosts against your naked inner thigh causing you to whimper and shudder, only just, and you hate yourself for letting him see you so vulnerable and _open._ He mumbles something in Spanish before he pulls back and you’re left dizzy at the sudden lack of contact. Reaper doesn’t even look up to consider you as he shucks off the glove to his right hand, letting it fall to the ground with a heavy _thud._

The skin of his arm is the same colour of his lower face, but very evident and with visible scarring, with dark wisps of smoke coming off him. You briefly wonder if it’s a side effect of his condition, of his abilities, before the thought is gone, chased away when he cups his now naked hand against your sex, fingers grazing your soaked entrance.

“How are you already this _wet_ , _Cariño_?” He jeers, the smile evident in his tone.

“Who said it was for you?” You immediately shoot back, ignoring the heat that’s pooling between your legs.

You bite your lip to contain the moan when he slides two fingers into your tight heat, but it escapes as a strangled gasp when he scissors the fingers inside of you, as if testing your body out. Reaper gives a quiet grunt before he slams the two fingers in to the hilt, the palm of his hand grinding against your clit and you unconsciously buck into him. “Anyone else doing this to you right now?” He teased.

“Go to hell.” You scowled and he chuckled again before pulling his fingers back, and you don’t want to cry out at that loss of contact so you bite your lip instead. He brings his fingers up to mouth and licks them clean without a second thought and that the heat pool between your legs again at just how _hot_ the sight of that is. 

Reaper gave a dark, almost melancholic chuckle. “Already been, _Cariño_.”

“Drama queen.” You sneered back again, grinning wickedly.

He snarled a bit at that before pulling you up for a kiss, and you find yourself clinging to him, kissing him with equal parts hunger and power yourself because you’re still scared he’ll eat you alive if you let him. His teeth graze your lower lip and the sting is a wonderful contrast to the arousal and pleasure, and it almost takes your mind off how much you’re actually enjoy this.

Reaper shoves you back down with enough force to knock the wind out of you again, and you’re dizzy with arousal and the heat that’s radiating off him in waves, barely able to acknowledge the sound of his belt jingling as he unbuckles himself. “Wanted to taste you, _Cariño_ ,” He admits in a gruff tone, “savour this moment, but…” You feel his freed cock, already fully erect and warm, press against your bare thigh and that’s another burst of pride there, how he’s already hard and eager just at the _prospect_ of fucking you (or the sight of you at least). “They’ll be plenty more times, and you’ve got me running too hot, and,” He slowly lets the head of his cock graze the opening to your cunt, nudging your clit gently and you hiss again at the pulse of pleasure that send through you. “you’re _more_ than ready to take me.”

You want to hurt him for that, for the insinuation you felt behind that last remark, but all you can manage is a quiet hiss as he sheaths himself inside of you in one fluid motion and Reaper lets out a string of curses in Spanish as well, his head dipping against your shoulder, and he’s filling and stretching you in such a good way something _almost_ passes you.

You dig your hands into his forearms, “If you _give_ me something, I swear to God, I’ll cut off your dick myself.” You hiss out and Reaper rumbles around you with a chuckle.

“Love your feistiness, _Cariño_ , but don’t worry.” He presses a kiss to your collarbone before licking the mark he left there earlier, “ _Mama_ didn’t raise an _idiota_. I’m clean, so are you, Talon health checks, remember?”

You scoff, of _course_ he made sure you were both clean. He had fucking ‘chosen’ you after all. You try not to think about the implications of any of that, and hook your legs around his hips. With your fingers still digging into his forearms, you squeeze experimentally around him, more than pleased at the unrestrained groan you draw out of him. “Just shut up and fuck me.”

Reaper gives another pleased rumble before pulling his hips back until barely the tip of his cock is still inside you and slamming back inside you, hitting just the right spot in you that has you seeing stars and you can’t help the breathless whimper of his name at that. He gives another satisfied growl at that before he sets his pace, fast and brutal.

Soon he has you gasping and whimpering through gritted teeth as the headboard of your bed slams hard against the wall. You don’t want to give in, you _don’t_ want to give in, but it’s hard not to. His hands are so wonderfully contrasting, the naked one so _warm_ against your skin while the metallic claws on the still gloved one are cool to the touch, and both know exactly where to touch you to have you writhing against him and his cock.

Reaper’s quieter then you thought he’d be, given how much he seems to love teasing you, but so are you and somehow you know you’re both simply wound up too tight, too much tension between you two for weeks now and this _needs_ to be done.

One particularly loud whimper you let escape seems to draw him out of the trance he almost seems to be in and he suddenly freezes, staring down at you, his cock still in you, twitching against your contracting walls. You almost cry out at the sudden lack of movement, _almost._ You look up at him, biting your lip. “Why did you – “

Reaper pulls back his hips, only just before slamming hard inside of you, hitting that oh so sweet spot inside you and you can’t help that unrestrained cry, “Touch yourself for me,” He demands in a low and heated whisper.

You’re dazed at this sudden change in character, surprised he even cares for your own release and not for simply using you like a living toy. His still taloned hand grips hard at your hip, claws threatening to break the skin and you sure he’s going to leave bruises at least (not like he wasn’t anyway with the pace he was setting). He pulls back again, slams in hard, once, twice, precise thrusts that hit you in just the right spot and leave you whimpering. “I won’t _ask_ again.”

You’re too desperate for your own release to fight back, so you listen to him, sliding your hand between your legs and trying not to tremble as your fingers find your clit, urgently rolling it between your fingers. “Is this what gets you off?” You ask quietly, glaring up at him.

He says nothing, just giving off a throaty chuckle, before shifting the angle of his hips and starting again brutally fast, the dark holes of his mask watching you more intently than you wish they would, despite your best efforts to ignore them as you try to focus on chasing your orgasm.

You find your release before he does, and you almost hate yourself for that, for letting him see you in true weakness as you jerk and whimper underneath him, walls clenching around his pulsating cock. But it turns out to matter little as he pulls out just as you come down from your high, swearing something under his breath before you feel the splash of warm cum against your thighs.

For a while, neither of you do anything, your ears still ringing as you struggle to catch your breath. Reaper presses a soft and brief kiss against your lips and _that’s_ the action that feels wrong, as if it wasn’t meant for you, or whatever _this_ was that you’ve initiated between you two.

If he noticed your discomfort, he said nothing, and you briefly wonder if he’ll just leave, leave you naked and alone, but all he does is pull himself off you and sit beside you, readjusting his mask to properly cover his features.

You licked your lips and finally ask something that’s been on your mind for a while. “How long?”

Reaper paused and your stomach drops for a moment, wondering if you’ve crossed a line, but he gives a sigh. “Too long.” He admitted, and there is a tired edge to his voice that made you cringe.  

“Reaper – “

“I’ll want to go again in a moment,” He interrupted you, grabbing for the tissue box beside your bed and tossing it at you. “And I’m taking my time this time, so if you need a break, tell me now.”

All you can manage is a tired chuckle as you wipe yourself clean of his cum, half wondering what exactly you’ve agreed to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't expect another chapter however until ... maybe after Christmas. Idk. We'll see what happens. ON A SIDE NOTE, I posted this the day before my birthday. Oh, and please keep commenting, I love reading what you guys think. :) Or maybe anything you'd like to see?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got it out BEFORE Christmas, so, suck on that me from the past who thought this wouldn't get out before then

Rules are discussed while Reaper is between your legs and you’re blindfolded (so you can’t see his face, one of the rules he had already mentioned but properly established when he used your discarded shirt as makeshift blindfold), his fingers slowly working in and out of your still soaking sex.

“This is just sex.” He mutters into your inner thigh, teeth grazing against the skin teasingly. His voice is oddly softer, less gruff, without the mask to filter his words. “there is _nothing_ between us beyond this. Nothing changes outside of the bedroom. We don’t talk about this, about…” He almost seemed pained to say it, “ _us_ , outside the bedroom. Understood?”

You hissed in agreement as the fingers inside of you ~~are~~ curled, hooking inside of you just right, the slick noises making everything seem so much more filthier. “And what if I want to stop?” You ask, not a single ounce of hesitance in your voice, trying your damnedest to not stutter because _damn_ does he know what he’s doing.

There’s a pregnant pause before he sunk his teeth into the taunt skin of your inner thigh, fingers not leaving their snug home inside your heat, coming to an unwanted stop. “This agreement, or during?”

Your mind is dizzy with arousal and you wish this was discussed properly, maybe over coffee (did he even _drink_?). You just wished it could have been discussed on _relatively_ fair terms. “Both.” You finally decided, shivering and trying to resist every urge to buck into his hands. “Can we call this off whenever we want? No questions asked?”

A grunt slipped from his cracked lips in choked agreement and you nearly call him out for it, before the drag of his tongue along your clit pulls a delighted whimper in response instead.

“An-And if I’m getting too uncomfortable with something during?” You manage, lungs fighting for air as your fingers dug into the sheets beneath you, knuckles white with strain. He had discarded the hooded coat (which sounded heavier then you would’ve guessed) before he blindfolding you, revealing his hair, albeit briefly. The sides of his head were clean shaven with a strip of noticeably longer and curled dark brown hair, peppered with grey like his beard, and you wanted to dig your fingers against his scalp, but even that felt too _intimate_.

“Traffic light system.” Was his only remark, before his tongue rolled deliberate circles around your clit, leaving you whimpering and bucking up against his mouth, trying to stop the ‘ _please’_ pushed against your lips. “Red to stop.” Another leisurely lick. “Yellow as a warning.” Another and you’re practically sobbing, shaking, as a pleased chuckle rumbles from Reaper’s chest. “Green to keep going.”

“Green!” You choked out in a strangled cry, clawing at the sheets as another chuckled echoed in his throat, his tongue darting past your folds to join his fingers.

It doesn’t take long to have you bucking against his touch, caught between his tongue and fingers, sobbing through the shockwaves of another orgasm. Reaper doesn’t stop, slowing to a languish lapping against your sex and clit before you manage to choke out ‘yellow’, the overstimulation too much.

Reaper gives a thoughtful and pleased chuckle before the bed groans in protest as he shifts his position, his fingers finally leaving your overstimulated sex, and you can feel his cock, pulsing hard and oh so hot, against your inner thigh. When he kisses you again, it’s demanding and possessive and you can still taste yourself on his lips.

“You good for another go?” He growls against your lips, a decidedly rough edge to his tone.

You almost want to say no, just to deny him release and fuck with him but your brain sparks with arousal as he slides the underside of his cock against the swollen lips of your sex. All you could manage was a shaky nod.

Reaper is pleased by your response, a growl slipping from his grin and you find yourself pushed to your side with little protest, a leg hooked around his hip while the other is hiked over his shoulder.

The heat radiating from his skin is dizzying ~~,~~ and combined with his expert hands, lips, and that _wonderfully_ heavy cock of his—you’re almost _scared_ how easily you melted against him. He teases the tip against your lips, pushing against your dripping folds as the sweet friction pulls a heavy whimper from your lips, resisting every urge to buck into him.

 “One more thing…” Reaper’s taloned hand (which for whatever reason, he has refused to take off), palms at your chest, cool metal flicking over a nipple. “While we have this agreement, you are _mine.”_

You blink behind the blindfold, staring up at where he would be over you. “What?”

“No one else gets to touch you, no one else gets to _fuck_ you into a mattress like this.” He growls, a desperate need to possess and control you dripping from his words as he slides into you in one quick thrust, making you shudder underneath him.

You manage a strangled chuckle. “Didn’t take you for the jealous type.” That’s a lie, you knew he was, ever since that incident with the jacket he left in your locker.

Reaper gives a deep rumble in response, his teeth grazing over your collar bone. “I don’t share well, what can I say?”

Your only answer is another chuckle before he immediately starts his pace, hard and fast that leaves you shaking and moaning.

* * *

He finishes inside you this time, and you wonder if it’s almost like a claim of ownership given that he had just told you beforehand that no one can touch you while you are his. You don’t make a move to pull off the blindfold, patiently waiting until he does it for you.

Reaper’s already mostly redressed when he tugs it off you (not that he’d bothered to take off much anyway), the hollow eyeholes of his mask almost mocking you as he gives a pleased chuckle. “Good, _Cariño_ , you’re learning already.”

You sneer but say nothing as you blink rapidly, trying to get your eyes to readjust to the light. You sit up, looking over yourself. You’re sticky with sweat and other bodily fluids, both yours and his, and there is clear evidence of forming bruises and other angry red marks, from both his mouth and his hands. You try not to look at the seed dripping out of your well used sex and onto the sheets, almost as if it’s an embarrassing notion.

“You shouldn’t need to go to the infirmary over those.” Reaper suddenly comments, and a part of you is surprised he’s still here. “But you can always grab an emitter if necessary.”

“Thanks for your concern.” You reply, not bothering to hide the snark in your tone as you slowly stretch out, letting your body readjust. “So, back to normal?”

Reaper huffs. “You done sulking?”

“Are you?”

You can practically hear the smirk behind his mask as he moves towards the door. “I’ll see you later then _, Cariño_.”

“That a promise?” You ask, trying not to grin yourself.

You couldn’t see it but you were sure there was a shit eating grin on his lips, a stuffed chuckle barely dripping from his mask. “If you’re not too sore later.”

“Don’t forget the roses.”

A stifled laugh creaked from his lips, almost out of place coming from him as he opened the door, just enough to let him wraith through the crack before it closed, leaving you naked and alone.

You lie back and sigh, staring up at the ceiling. Your body ached, simultaneously crying out for a much-needed shower and a nap, but you aren’t sure which to do first.

It’s surreal, almost like a fading dream and you aren’t entirely sure how to process any of it or if you even should. Why overthink things?

_It’s just sex._

Your phone gives off a demanding beep by your bed side and you cock an eyebrow before reaching for it. You received a message from a number you didn’t recognise but has somehow already nicknamed itself ‘Sombra’ in your contacts.

[ **Sombra:** So, how was it?]

You role your eyes but grin as you tap in your response.

[ **Gatito:** I have no idea what you’re talking about.]

[ **Sombra:** Spoilsport.]

You can’t help the giggle as you wonder if Reaper would count this as ‘talking outside the bedroom’.

* * *

You’re more than a little surprised how… quickly you and Reaper fall into a rhythm and routine with your new arrangement.

For the first few days, Reaper barely kept his hands off you, as if he was trying to get that pent up need out of his system. Not that you minded, he more than made sure you received your end of the bargain as well. But after that, you settled into a routine of sex once or twice a week, depending largely on time between operations and Reaper’s own mood.

Reaper, for his part, still liked having you around on missions, and there’s no small amount of pride you feel knowing that he genuinely thought you were skilled and not just because he was trying to flirt (in his own weird way) or get into your pants. He was fairly professional too, which seemed to surprise you as well. During missions, unless you were in a safe house and it wasn’t cutting into sleep, he couldn’t keep his hands off you when you were alone together. He still teased you occasionally, but again, that was between the two of you.

You, for the most part, still liked to verbally spar with him, even if it was laxer than before. Perhaps knowing that you could ‘work it out’ later made it easier for you both. You refused to let him walk all over you though, which only seemed to delight him even more.

Nobody commented on anything changing between you and Reaper, at least not openly; perhaps out of pure fear of what would happen to them. Sombra teased you whenever she was around but never said a word to Reaper, at least not that you noticed. You never got the feeling she feared him though.

It was two months into your arrangement when you received the order to move to another Talon HQ. You weren’t surprised. Talon liked keeping their agents rotated, to avoid the possibility of being followed or tracked but you also suspected it was to prevent attachments between members. You were, however, curious as to how Reaper would react to this, if at all.

You’re on a stake out with Reaper when you bring it up, just the two of you in Madrid, keeping eyes on a corrupt politician Talon had trackers on.

“They’re having me moved.” You remark, almost casually, not shifting your binoculars from your target. You can hear the shift of Reaper’s body from his spot on the couch as he looks over blueprints for the sleazy $10 an hour motel your target was in, currently whoring it up with an intern you suspected was barely of legal age. You were just grateful you didn’t have a reason to turn on the thermal yet.

 “I know.” He replies, cool and calm and that makes you shift your gaze towards him, albeit briefly.

“You _know_?”

“You think I’d let you out of my sights that easily, _Cariño?_ ”

You don’t like the implication behind those words, so you bite back. “Still waiting on those roses.”

You hear him shift again, standing up this time and the heavy, weighted sounds of his footsteps approaching you slowly. You inhale sharply through your nose, ignoring the smell of ozone and gunpowder you have already begun to associate with him, along with the height that now creeps up on you from behind.

A taloned handed grazed your shoulder. “ _We_ are being moved together, as a unit.”

“We?”

“Widowmaker, Sombra, me…” The tickle of the bone white mask against your neck send goose bumps down your spin. “And _you_.”

You don’t turn to look at him, you _won’t_ give him that satisfaction. “Didn’t realise I was joining your harem.” There’s a bitterness to your tone that surprises you, but it’s pushed aside as the grip on your shoulder tenses and you know you’ve hit a nerve.

“Don’t push your luck, _Cariño_.” He warned, and you can tell he’s a bit peeved off at you for that (amazing what a few weeks of sex with someone will do to your ability to read them). “You’re talented. Skilled. And you follow orders well enough.”

_And I’m also the only one who can stand you enough, hell, want you enough, to fuck you._

You don’t say that, biting the inside of your cheek instead.

_Don’t give him the satisfaction._

“We’ll properly celebrate your promotion later.” There’s a nuzzle of his mask against your cheek, an almost mocking act to represent a kiss.

“Is it a promotion? I do demand a rise in pay for that.”

“We’ll work something out.” There’s a pause, then the heat of him becomes thicker, tenser. “Time to earn your pay check anyway. Rooftop.”

You glanced toward the rooftop with your binoculars and frowned at what you saw. “Assassins?” He grunted in agreement, you quietly wondered how he even saw them before you did. “Think they’re here for our guy?”

You don’t get an answer, he’s already shadow stepping away.

Well, so much for recon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay but seriously, we're in our busy period with work, I have started another Reaper thing for someone else and want to get that and the second chapter of Fractured for Genji out, so please don't be mad if the next chapter isn't like, for another month. :

**Author's Note:**

> I do seriously love your comments, so don't stop commenting, whether it's your first time reading or your 10th.


End file.
